


The Box of Pandora

by adrift_me



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: The many prompt fills about real!Graves and Credence.Fluff, angst and domestic happiness at your disposal and per your requests.





	1. The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> I hesitated with publishing such tiny pieces of writing, but here goes nothing. This is a collection of tumblr prompt fills that are too small to publish on their own, but fun enough to keep in one place.
> 
> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Proposal

Months go by since Graves and Credence merged their lives. Being apart makes sense no longer and only together do they feel complete. Whatever parts one lost in their fight with Grindelwald are replaced by what another has. Every moment they spend by each other’s side is filled with love and magic. It is a healing process no doctor can prescribe as the two men find themselves protected against the cruelty of the world and their past. And the tighter their magical bond grows, the faster they advance towards what people call a sacred bond.

Graves makes a decision quite soon and from there on it becomes his idée fixe. He spends a ridiculous amount of time in jewelry shops. He recites words over and over again, escaping his eyes in the mirror and instead imagining Credence’s. He searches for a perfect moment which doesn’t arrive up until now when Credence and himself are surrounded by coziness of their apartment. Graves knows the only way to gain courage is to corner himself into the point of no return, and it happens when he falls on one knee before the boy and says the special words.

When no response comes, cold shivers run down Percival’s spine.

“Credence?”

Graves tries his best to subdue rising panic in his chest. Perhaps, his choice of words was wrong. Perhaps, religious upbringing wouldn’t allow Credence to commit. Perhaps, Graves’ face still looks like a deceitful mirror of a liar.

So many “perhaps” flash through Graves’ mind, as he is holding a small golden ring up to Credence’s left hand, kneeled before him. The ring looks oddly dull against Credence’s skin and Graves wonders if it’s yet another contribution against a desired “yes”.

One and only comfort is that Credence doesn’t hurry to remove his hand from Graves’ hold. No, his fingers are warm and comfortable in Graves’, only trembling a little.

Seconds stretch into what feels like hours, a moment frozen in time and torturing Percival’s heart in the most unpleasant way. He wishes he could sway the situation, preferably towards Credence and his warm hands, hands that are made to be kissed and worshipped. Graves hates the way he is stuck in an undecided limbo which is a break between what was and what could be.

What will be. The man flinches when Credence’s other hand runs through his hair. He leans into the touch, closes his eyes. A whisper reaches his ears, “ _I will_ ”, the whisper says. With shaking hands Graves slides a ring on the boy’s finger and rushes towards his body, kneeling, burying his face on the level of Credence’s stomach and nuzzling in his warm clothes. Both Credence’s hands now mess with Percival’s hair and he gasps a laugh out when the man embraces him around the waist.

“Thank you,” whispers Graves, going mad with happiness. His heart is beating wildly against his ribs and he loses breath in passion.

“I love you,” says Credence huskily, falling on his knees before Graves and meeting his mouth with eagerness and yearning, matching that one of Percival’s.


	2. The Swear Jar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Graves has a swear jar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

As soon as Graves left the apartment, but not before he planted a kiss on Credence’s cheek and told him yet again that he was allowed to take and use anything, the young man quietly closed the door and wandered off to seek an engaging activity in the absence of his friend and lover.

With barely anything to do Credence diverted his attention to the kitchen, where a set of stuffed cupboards was waiting to be inspected. One by one he opened its small wooden doors and observed the insides. Jars, endless jars and boxes lined the shelves. Flour, powders, unknown, but obviously magical, substances and a variety of the usual no-maj cooking ingredients. Credence was greatly inspired by the shocking variety of cupboard contents, inspired enough to decide and create a special cake or whatever took his fancy minutes later.

The young man armed himself with a handful of jars and set them on the counter, investigating the contents of each. Sugar, flour, peppermint candies, cinnamon, red, black and white pepper, and finally…

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, ABERNATHY--”

The jar fell through Credence’s trembling hands, and with clattering, as loud as what was coming from out of it, it rolled under the table and hit the wall.

“What a piece of fucking garbage, what a shithole, you’d better--”

Credence clapped hands over his ears, uncertain if he was allowed to laugh or if he were to be terrified. Kneeling on the floor, he searched for the jar lid and the culprit itself. The said culprit was still slightly rolling under the table and throwing out endless deafening swearings that made Credence blush hard enough for his face to take the tone of a beetroot.

Almost lying down on the floor and praying for his arms to be long enough to reach for the jar, Credence attempted to get his hands on it. His fingertips brushed the metal side and the jar spit yet another curse.

“Keep your dirty hands off my effing body,” the jar protested, making Credence wheeze with trying not to laugh.

Suddenly the swearing stopped and the jar floated from under the table right into Graves’ hands, who was standing behind Credence with a rather disturbing expression, torn between amusement and deep embarrassment. Credence thought it was the very first time he saw Percival Graves blush.

“Apologies, Credence. I forgot my watch at home and returned. In good time, I see,” he shook the swearing jar a little, covering it tightly with a lid. “Let’s not put this in a pastry or whatever you were going to bake here, my boy. It wouldn’t add to the taste.”

With blush spreading and reddening at the tip of his ears, Graves stuffed the jar in the deepest corner of the cupboard. He clapped his hands as if trying to shake off flour excess, and turned to Credence.

“Now, I shall leave the apartment and pretend that I’ve never returned to see this. Is it alright?”

Credence nodded, his lips pursed together painfully as he tried not to laugh. As Graves approached the door, the young man called for him.

“Mr. Graves?”

“Yes, Credence?”

Credence dared a smile bigger than usual and immediately looked away.

“'Effing"? Really?”

Graves rolled his eyes and disapparated, leaving Credence to savour the amusement.


	3. Blanket Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Blanket Fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

“I’ve never done this before,” Percival admits when Credence emerges from their bedroom, his head peeking from above a stack of blankets. Graves removes half of them in his own arms and the two man stand side by side, staring at the awkward construction they built.

It truly is awkward, with a few chairs and a supporting pole positioned in the middle of a living room and waiting to be dressed into a fort. Graves barely has any idea of where all this is going, but if Credence wants to try and build a blanket fort, he is ready to comply.

With a light gesture Graves sends his stack of blankets floating towards one of the chairs when the boy’s hand touches his arm.

“No magic,” he says with a sly smile. And Graves smiles back, sliding his hand into Credence’s for a moment and squeezing it gently.

The fuss over the fort is delightful, much to Percival’s surprise. They argue about the way the entrance will face and how exactly they need to spread the blanket and which one (Credence insists on the one with blue patterns, but Graves wants it plain dark blue). They cushion the floor with blanket stacks and end up tangled in the blanket mess they created. Graves is laughing and so is Credence, both of them trying to free each other from the fabrics trap. When they finally emerge, panting and laughing, Graves waves his hand in the air, sending a handful of hovering light spheres under the blanket fort ceiling. It looks beyond magical, warm and calming.

They settle down in each others arms, covered with the fluffiest of blankets. Credence sits in Graves’ lap, enveloped in his arms and fast asleep on his chest. Graves stares out of the entrance which looks out on the window they opened.

Everything from the blue patterned blanket to the chair construction is silly, he thinks, but this is the treasure of it. And that one treasure is in his arms. Graves runs his hand through Credence’s hair and rests it there, plants a kiss on top of his head. Let it all be silly, he thinks. I’ve never had a chance to feel so light-headed before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sweet shower kisses under the warm stream? All steamy and safe, and nothing sexual about it, just loving touches and knuckle kisses and soft laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

Credence feels naked, and it has nothing to do with the absence of clothing on his body. He shyly stands in a bathtub, trying to hide all the exposed parts with shaking hands. His long feet are shifting, a thin layer of cold water splashing under them. There is no curtain to hide behind, and daylight is betraying all flaws of his body to a plain view.  But he is grateful that if anyone has to see them, it’s Percival Graves and no one else.

He knows Graves wouldn’t judge, no matter how sickly pale his skin is or how long and thin his torso is. Credence is no stranger to being in a shower with someone, but there is a difference. Where his mother used look with reproachful and hateful vigilance, keeping an eye out on his hands, “ _ God forbid you touch yourself, Credence, for it is a sin _ ”, he is now looked at not. 

“There is nothing to worry about,” as if catching the trail of his thoughts, Graves whispers lowly at his ear. 

A squeak of a brass tap handle — and a stream of cold water sprays over them. Slowly it turns warm and Credence lifts his face up to meet the droplets. Unlike icy cold water that his mother used to pour on his head from a bucket, this feels different. Soft, caressing, it doesn’t whip his skin but merely washes it. Water trickles down his hair, his face, makes him squeeze his eyes shut. He embraces himself and rubs at the skin of his arms.

There is no rough and scratchy wisp that he used to scrub his skin clean. His lungs feel ready to be filled with a rough unpleasant smell of carbolic soap that twists Credence’s insides, but it never happens. Instead there is a mild scent, almost like Graves’ cologne. He loves it and he breathes in, filling his chest with the smell.

As water flows down Credence’s body, Graves follows it with kisses. His lips touch a spot on the neck, lower and lower till they reach a sharp collarbone. Percival rests his head on Credence’s shoulder, leaning to his face, his stubble tickling his skin.

A sigh escapes Credence’s chest.

Graves smiles. Gently he turns him around, a hand running from wet hair to rest on his cheek. Credence tries to blink as water gets in his eyes, but he prefers it this way, not having to look, concentrating on what he can  _ feel _ . For the first time he knows he doesn’t have to be cautious, doesn’t have to be painfully aware of his body, even if memory tries to assure him otherwise.

Graves’ hands are soapy, and with circular gentle motions he massages Credence’s shoulders. The boy relishes the affectionate touches, unable to move under those fingers. His body willingly gives in and his legs feel limp.

Water washes away the foam, leaving cleanliness and softness of skin. Graves throws his head back and runs hands through his wet hair. Credence, who blinked water out of his eyes, follows his motions, captured by the blackness of Graves’ hair colour. He can’t quite stop himself from reaching out to touch.

It’s a whirlwind of emotions, how Graves delicately catches his hand and kisses it. How his fingers slide down the length of his arm and draw a line down his waist and hips. How he bumps his forehead to touch Credence’s, water flowing between their faces, their mouths open a little.

Graves leans in, closing half an inch of space between them, and catches Credence’s upper lip. He doesn’t want to answer the kiss, he loves  _ being _ kissed, enjoys feeling Graves nip at his mouth and urge him to open it, playful, gentle. Percival’s hands move up Credence’s neck, thumbs pausing on his jaw, rubbing its sharp edges.

Credence doesn’t open his eyes when Graves fully covers his mouth. He stands with his hands warmly hanging on Graves’ wrists, holding onto them. He yields, allowing himself to kiss back, feeling Graves’ lips stretch in a smile as he does so.

He is showered with love as much as with warm water, dripping down their bodies.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Made up fic title : how dare you (do this to yourself)
> 
> [Send me your prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

Graves looks up, his weary eyes suddenly lively in surprise.

“How dare you,” Credence grits through his teeth again, staring at the floor. His fingers clutch at the seams of his pants, tugging at them angrily. Everything about him, the posture, the gestures, speak of distress and dismay. But his voice is a sturdy spine he holds on to. And only this exhibit of strength manages to lift the tiredness off Graves’ chest. Instead, he feels guilty.

“Credence…” he begins, already regretting saying anything, but Credence’s hands on his face stop his mouth from talking. The boy’s hold is surprisingly strong and his fingers push heavily into Graves’ cheeks. 

“How dare you say this,” Credence repeats yet again, a desperate mantra for Graves’ wounds. Before Percival knows it, Credence kisses him everywhere, from a creased forehead to a sharp chin.

“Please, don’t ever say that again,” Credence mutters hoarsely, lips still covering Graves’ face in loving kisses.

Graves tastes guilt on his own tongue. Yes, he did say that if he had never existed, Credence wouldn’t have been hurt. That if he died, he would have spared the grief for so many. That if he died…

“If you died, so would have I. But I want to live more than anything, because you are alive.”

Graves’ heart swells. With pride, with love, with ever embracing feeling of life around him. It’s a bitter realisation that Credence managed to move on, to survive and to thrive, but he himself is stuck in a bog of the past and won’t let go.

It’s an impulse to press Credence close to himself and return all the kisses with twice a force. His mouth crushes into Credence’s, his lips hurting from the boy’s teeth hitting him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way and nor would Credence.

The way their arms weave around each other, holding on tightly, the way their lips suck on one another forcefully, it’s the only reason for Graves to choose to at least try and stay alive.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps into Credence’s mouth and presses his arms tighter to the boy’s body.

“Don’t ever do this to yourself, Mr. Graves. Don’t ever do this to myself.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: made up fic title: dear darling
> 
> [Send me your prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

St. Mungo’s hospital spoke of safety. Credence treaded lightly along the bright halls, following a healer ahead. He tried not to look around too much, paying respectful disregard to those who did not need curious eyes on them. He knew what it was like to be a beast which attracted countless gazes. Gazes which didn’t know where to look, didn’t know how or why. They simply did and offered no help. And he didn’t want to be one like that.

So he ignored the patients, staring at the healer’s back as he walked. At last she brought him around the corner of many halls and into a small square conjunction between the three doors and a hall opening. With a small smile, the healer stopped by the room on the left. Her hand rested on the handle.

“He is not like you used to know him, sir,” she stared at him meaningfully. Credence smiled bitterly.

“Nor am I. Please, miss, I know what I am about to face. I can handle it.”

“Very well. I must ask you do not excite him too much. A few minutes’ visit is enough for today, if you don’t mind,” she instructed him and then carefully opened the door into the room.

He stepped inside and sniffed. Cologne. Expensive and nostalgic, it made his head swim a little, but he regained his senses quickly. A coat rack stood by the entrance and almost by inertia Credence’s hand darted towards a rough sleeve of a long black coat. His fingers touched it and moved away. For two years his fingertips craved for the feeling.

“Percival,” the healer called sweetly and received a “hm” in return. Credence’s gaze wavered, paused on details which could tell him more before he had to face the man. He may have known he changed, but his heart was in no condition to adjust. And so he looked at those details: a collection of unopened letters. a picture frame where his own younger face stared back in mild surprise, a box of pastries and a stack of shabby books - that was all his gaze hooked on. And then…

“Credence.”

His voice was hoarse, but recognizable still. His hair with so many more strands of white, messed over his creased forehead. A mix of kindness and steel in small eyes. Arms reaching out, seeking comfort, much like Credence used to do. And now he was there to return it.

He darted forward, landing before Percival Graves on the floor, pulling him in his own arms, drawing consoling gentle circles on the man’s back. Percival’s hands held him tightly by the nape of his neck, unmoving, as if soaking in the warmth of Credence’s skin. One hand slowly, carefully pushed into his shortcut hair.

“My dear darling,” Percival hummed in his ear, leaning down in their awkward embrace. “You have returned.”

“I couldn’t bear to be away from you any longer,” Credence confessed, longing for the touch on his neck to be even stronger, for there was no other thing as wondrous as Percival Graves’ loving touch. He relished it.

“Have you come to stay then?” Hope coloured Percival’s voice. His hold grew possessive.

“Not to stay, no.”

Credence felt the grip of Percival’s arms go stronger even more so as he said it. He pulled at his arms, making Credence slide right into his lap, turning them into an inseparable tangle of an embrace.

“Shhh,” Credence hushed in his ear. “I haven’t come to stay. I’ve come to take you with me.”

Credence felt wetness on his cheek. He didn’t have to pull away to know, didn’t have to look. Closed his eyes and felt his eyelashes tremble against the wet skin of Percival’s cheek.

Their lips met.


	7. 3 times Percival Graves kneeled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt, just a small Friday happy from me to you all.
> 
> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

There were so many things he wanted to apologize for, and yet no apology would have ever been enough to fix the damage he inadvertently caused. His hands could heal the bloody scars on the hands, but they couldn’t reach into the soul and pull together the seams of a broken heart. And so when Credence burst into the jail where he was kept, when Credence sobbed at the sight of him, when Credence looked at him with a mix of confusion and hatred, Percival Graves kneeled.

As time went by and nature took its toll, healing what he couldn’t, Percival rose again, dusted a pair of old suit trousers off and went on hand in hand with Credence. He led him in the happiest of places where neither would remember and where either would feel the joy of heart. Slowly their hands became intertwined and a red thread twined itself in their tangled fingers. He felt its tug on his own heart and when it tugged again, he burned with desire to kiss every inch of Credence’s body. And thus, Percival Graves kneeled.

When a thread of fate was no longer sufficient, he sought oh so many a way to tie himself closer to Credence. He used kindness, mutual love and respect as his sewing tools and pieced together their broken lives into one. But even that he felt was not enough. A new decision arrived shortly, a band of gold to twine them together forever. He only needed a “yes”, and for that Percival Graves kneeled.


	8. Walking In My Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: fake fic title: Depeche Mode - Walking In My Shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Depeche Mode - Walking In My Shoes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GrC_yuzO-Ss)
> 
> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Credence’s soft steps count down the distance before the Second Salem church entrance. The door is crooked and ripped out of its frame, flinders carpeting the pavement before it. Credence shuffles his feet in the dust a little, kicking away the tendrils of painful memories which immediately try to get a hold of him. 

“Are you sure?” a low voice, a desired voice, his voice wonders. Credence turns his head around to look at Percival who limps to stand next to him. His heavy steady hand slides to rest on Credence’s shoulder. The young man himself wings his long arm around Percival and takes some of the painful weight off his leg by a strong hold.

“Quite so. It’s been years.”

The church stands as if not a single day has passed. Even the air itself is jelly-like and dust floats in the dusk. Credence knows they kept this polluted place frozen in time ever since the incident, but he wonders if it would have been more merciful to burn the entire place down. Something writhed inside him triumphantly - let the books, leather and pain go out in blaze!

Percival’s hand pushed to hold Credence’s nape and his fingers dug into the young man’s hair in a loving calming gesture. Credence realises why - he doesn’t breathe and his chest is hollow as oxygen stagnates and evaporates from his body.

Credence closes his eyes and breathes out. The monster inside him squirms and steps away.

Credence promised it would be his last visit to his home. Years later, he is ready to let go of the last thread which held him tied to a religious puppeteer. It’s so easy with a solid support by his side, with a burning feeling weaved throughout his abused heart, a feeling his mother called sin and which he now knows is called love.

He would think about it later when they return  _ home _ . When Percival would lower him heavily on their sofa and press him into its softness. When buttons of Percival’s suit would dig in his chest as hard as Percival’s fingers in his hair. When Percival’s mouth would suck the soul out of him with passionate wet kisses he craves for.

But for now, he looks at the place which denied him everything, anything. And suddenly it’s so much easier to look at. Last time, one final time. There is a lone tear rolling down his sharp cheekbone. Percival reaches out to wipe it away and kiss him in front of the place which promised he would never be kissed.

He savours the kiss, whispers in Percival’s mouth, “it’s not a sin. I love,”, and pulls the man into apparition with a strong arm.

The church collapses. Magic keeping it in place is no more.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dumping today's two written prompts for the [kissing prompts on tumblr](http://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/post/163841290156/fictional-kiss-prompts). Feel free to send me one [here](http://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/prompt-faq) :)

**19\. kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing**

“Credence, I’m trying to–”

What exactly it was that Mr. Graves was trying to do Credence never heard, too busy with gentle, for the lack of a better word, nibbling at Percival’s shoulder with light kisses. Mr. Graves breathed out shakily, as he always did, when Credence’s full lips got a hold of his neck. Credence knew only too well what a manipulative little tool he had at his disposal, and used it shamelessly, had he wanted attention from his wonderful Mr. Graves.

And he did want his attention, as the man had just returned from work past midnight and had already burrowed into a stack of papers he brought with him. Credence would have had none of it, too eager to distract Mr. Graves and to pull him away from a tight grasp of work.

“Credence,” there was a slight growl to Percival’s voice now, as he tilted his head and opened the view of his neck up for Credence. Arms wrapped warmly around Mr. Graves, Credence pecked a line of kisses up his throat and to his lips, pulling Percival into a proper kiss now.

“This is the last time I bring work home,” Percival mutters in Credence’s mouth, pulling him carefully into his lap.

 

**12\. a hoarse whisper “kiss me”**

The alleyway had been the only forgiving place, for it offered more solace than the Second Salem church itself ever did. It was in the dark alleyway that Credence felt safe, hidden from the world behind a sheet of a magical barrier and, most importantly, within Percival Graves’ arms.

It had been months since they met. It had been weeks since their arms wrapped around each other for the first time. It was the first time he asked.

“Kiss me.”

Percival’s gentle caressing thumb paused its circling over Credence’s cheekbone. He looked down at the young man, gaze torn between denial and - Credence’s heart stopped for a mere second - love?

“Kiss me, please,” he added hurriedly, eagerly, hands gripping on the fronts of Graves’ coat almost in fear. Percival’s hand, the fingers of which were curled to delicately caress Credence’s face with knuckles, unfurled and warmly spread over his entire cheek. Credence felt his face being tipped up closer and his eyes fluttered close. He didn’t know how to kiss, what he had to do and merely opened his mouth a little, eager to let Percival in. Warm breath touched his lips first, long ticklish eyelashes at his own, and then the most wonderful feeling, Percival Graves’ lips touched him. Just a peck at first, but even that overwhelmed Credence’s little fluttering heart. His hands gripped on the coat to match a bright white colour of the shirt, so tight a grasp had become.

His lips slid over Percival’s and he held on tightly, as if eager to keep their mouths glued to each other. He had hoped there would be time to explore the whole entirely of Mr. Graves’ hot mouth, pleasing tongue. But for now, he was content with just a kiss. That and Mr. Graves’ warm arms around his body.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more kiss prompts from [this meme](http://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/post/163841290156/fictional-kiss-prompts) :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

**6\. lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up**

Percival Graves is not cute. He doesn’t surround himself with cute things, the whole idea is foreign to his stiff spine and furrowed brows. He is indifferent to kittens and has no taste for confectioneries.

But even Percival Graves won’t deny that his Credence is cute. The way he presses his sleepy face into the pillow, arms wrapped aroung Percival’s waist. His eyes are barely open and he blinks without seeing, forcing life back into his body. Percival looks down at the youngster in his embrace and suppresses an urge to gather him in his arms and bring him even closer while he is still in the tight grasp of Morpheus.

Instead, Percival tilts his head to plant a kiss on top of Credence’s. The young man mumbles something, and Percival swears in his mind -  _this is cute_. It is infectious, however, and Percival kisses his forehead now, heart full to the brim with love which threatens to tear him apart. Credence shifts, and it’s an opportunity.

Percival pulls him closer, embracing him with warmth, drags the blanket together with the young man. 

“Good morning,” Credence mumbles, looking blearily at Percival, making the man smile.  _Cute,_ he thinks in outrage at himself. Messed up short hair, fogged eyes and delightfull dull pink lips which beg to be reddened. He leans and presses into the soft mouth, which opens up pliantly because Credence is way too sleepy to measure the kiss. Percival bites at his lips, rolls tongue over teeth, runs hands all over Credence’s back under immensely warm blanket.

It’s cute, really, Percival thinks. It’s really cute.

 

**13\. following the kiss with a series of kisses down the neck for gravebone**

Credence feels himself pressed against the brick poster-covered wall. Two bodies are fiercly smashing into the surface: his own and Mr. Graves’. He is breathless, really, feels the ribs press into his flesh as he tries to get at least a gulp of oxygen to keep his mind running. But it’s not so easy when Mr. Graves’ lips have captured his and won’t let go for a moment.

His throat is in a warm and surprisingly gentle hold of Mr. Graves’ hands. It’s better than the touch of a warm scarf wrapped around his neck, it’s better than a heavy blanket, its folds a pleasant weight on his throat. Mr. Graves’ fingers rest on his cheeks, holding him close, his mouth steady and all for Mr. Graves to kiss. Credence opens up.

The kiss is hot, just like that summer’s stifling night. Mr. Graves’ tongue flicks at Credence’s, and he thinks it must be what a taste of heaven is.

He is almost upset when Mr. Graves’ lips move to kiss the corner of his mouth. It means he can’t feel their hot wetness, can’t taste them. But then they are on his jaw, under his jaw, and his breath hitches. One hand grabbing desperately at Mr. Graves’ fronts, another running wildly through the layer of Mr. Graves’ black hair. He gasps and  _moans_  when Mr. Graves won’t stop on his wretched jaw. His lips would torture a line down his throat, sucking a little and a tongue touching his skin.

It’s too easy to tilt his head, let the last of sunshine fall on his marble skin until it’s swallowed under Mr. Graves’ kisses. Until the sunshine disappears entirely, while a couple by a brick poster-covered wall desperately kisses their love away.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Credence crying because he can't believe Percival wants him. And Percival kisses him, showing him how much he loves him and that he is worth everything. 
> 
> [I always accept prompts in my tumblr ask :)](https://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/)

Mr. Graves’ words are ringing in his head as loud as wretched church bells would. Credence wants to cover his ears, shake his head, pinch himself. Do anything that would return him to the painful reality, because what he has just heard can never be true.

“ _ I love you _ ”.

Mr. Graves’ is embracing him, holds him close and Credence wants to fight himself out of this hug because no, it’s a lie. A cruel lie. He must be dreaming again, shut in the upper room of the Second Salem church. Mr. Graves’ apartment with magical trinkets, spellbooks and pure happy magic around him has to be an illusion.

He pushes Mr. Graves away and wipes and rubs at his lower eyelids which sting with tears.

“Credence… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my boy. Have I upset you with my words?”

Mr. Graves makes no attempt to pull him back into the hug. Credence braves a look at the man and cries, closes his mouth with a hand because this illusion is something he craves for and it hurts that he cannot truly have it. His heart is beating madly, trembles against his ribs as he wants to reply, “ _ I love you too _ ”.

“Is it too soon?”

Mr. Graves’ face falls sad. It’s subtle, only seen in the way his smile curls down a little and his brows are just that bit heavier than usual. Credence knows how to read Mr. Graves, learnt to see his movements for what they are. With months of weekly meetings he had time to remember and recollect, write them down in his memory as the only good thing worth giving time and thought to. But it has always been his thing. He cherished it as a gift granted.

But in the way Mr. Graves’ face saddened, he comes to a realization that it wasn’t a gift for him alone. It dawns that if Mr. Graves says he loves him (Credence hiccups a sob at the idea), then he must have learnt him too. The map of his scars and the line of his uneven nose, the ragged cut of his hair.

He reaches out reverently and cups Mr. Graves’ cheek. Mr. Graves closes his eyes and tilts his head into the touch, rubs against the gentle offered hand. Credence’s trembling thumb lands on the small curve of the man’s upper lip.

“Why would you want someone like me? I’m a bother. You need… someone less broken.”

He finds himself embraced tight, so tight that oxygen leaves his body. Mr. Graves’ scratchy laugh vibrates in his shoulder and it sounds like a relief. Credence is mellow and soft in the embrace because it feels like sitting by fire after a long day out in winter. Mr. Graves’ is his warmth and his lips kiss his neck just like fire flames would lick his hands if he let them.

And then Mr. Graves’ lips worship his throat and jaw and chin and lips and Credence is no more, giving in and allowing his mouth to be opened and explored. He doesn’t move much, too terrified to answer, but takes as much as he can, promising himself he will  _ give _ some day too.

“You are not broken, Credence. And if you would allow me, let me do all in my power to make you feel whole. Oh how I love you, Credence.”

“I love you too.”

It comes out as a broken sob, as half a cry half a laugh. There is so much undertone in what they say. There is a confession, a promise, a medicine. And most importantly, there is a meaning, that one which Credence only dreamt to hear. And now that it rings in his head, it’s no longer an illusion, but the most pleasant truth.


End file.
